Bringing Them Home
by katbybee
Summary: The sons of one of the Heroes, while helping to close an important chapter in the history of Stalag 13, have a very unexpected encounter. UUD. Please R/R.


April 1973

The little girl poked her brother as they watched the two men in military uniforms standing by the old cemetery. There were other men poking around there, looking at the graves and talking. No one ever came around there, so the children were confused. Even the soldiers who ran the training school * on the other side of the brick wall never came out here. But there were several of the soldiers from the school watching the men as they walked around the graveyard.

Hilda said to her brother, "This is the graveyard from the camp grandpa worked at."

"Yes, I know. Those two men over there are Americans. I recognize their uniforms from grandpa's books. One is Army and one is Air Force."

Hilda giggled. "That may be, but look at them…they look exactly alike!" Hans was surprised. Hilda was right. Apparently, the two men were brothers…twins!

Hans decided to get closer. He really wanted to know what was happening. Hilda crept quietly next to him.

HH

Andy Carter looked at his brother. "This has been a long time coming."

Pete agreed. "Yeah. Too long. I just wish the bureaucratic red tape hadn't taken so long to work out. A lot of these men's families waited all their lives for them to come home."

Both men removed their uniform covers, and Andy knelt and touched one of the unmarked graves. Oddly, it was the only one which had flowers planted on it, and Andy briefly wondered about that. ** "And some of them will come home, but no one will know it."

Silently, Pete nodded. They stood for a moment, thinking about the sacrifices made by the men buried in this small cemetery so many years ago.

After a few moments, they replaced their covers and continued surveying the graveyard. There were about 70 bodies to be exhumed and moved. Many more had had to be been burned when a failed German bomb test had caused an earthquake that had leveled most of the Stalag 30 years ago. ***

Andy's eye was caught by a flash of bright green at the edge nearest the red brick wall. It would have been near the old barbed wire fence of the Stalag.

"Pete, look! I think I found Dad's grass!"

"You're kidding!" Both men hurried to kneel next to the small patch of green, now tangled and overgrown. A rough ring of rocks, some pushed out of place by weather and time, lay strewn around the tough square of defiant Dakota prairie grass their father had planted not long before the earthquake. It, like their father, had defied the odds and survived.

The boys had grown up on stories of how their father had planted that patch of grass to bring hope and a place of solace to his fellow prisoners. Each of the members of Papa Bear's team used to find a moment to come to the spot and touch the grass, for luck, or for a blessing, before a mission. It had become a vital part of their camp life.

The brothers began to stroll around the cemetery, watching as the activity in the cemetery picked up. The terrain was too rough to bring in heavy equipment, so they would be using a small Cat and a lot of hand tools. "I almost hate to leave that grass here, now that we're taking the prisoners home." Pete said.

He felt a tug on his sleeve, and was startled to see a young German girl looking up at him. Her earnest expression startled him. Both he and Andy spoke German fluently, so the fact the girl addressed him in her native language was not an issue. "Mister, please don't take our grass away. Grandpa really likes it."

Pete knelt and looked into her eyes. "He does, huh?" A boy, just a few years older, maybe 11 or so joined his sister. His blond hair fell into his eyes. His expression was no less serious. "Yessir. See, he was a guard in the camp, but he tried to help whenever he could. Some of the men were even sort of his friends. He always taught us we shouldn't hate anyone.

After the camp was liberated, he used to come out here and take care of the graveyard and the grass. He told us it was what he felt he ought to do. He did it clear up until he hurt his knee two winters ago when he fell."

Andy looked at the boy. "What is your grandfather's name?"

The children looked at each other and were silent. Andy knelt then, too.

"It's alright. No one wants to hurt your grandfather. Do you know what barracks he guarded?"

The boy nodded. "He was one of the guards for Barracks Two."

Andy and Pete exchanged looks. There was only one person that could be. Uncle Hans had passed away years ago.

Pete looked at the children. "Is your grandfather Karl Langenscheidt?"

Both Hans and Hilda's eyes grew large, and Hans nodded warily.

The twins smiled. Andy told the children, "Our father knew your grandpa. He is a good man."

Tears brimmed in Hilda's eyes and threatened to spill over. "It makes him sad that he can't tend to the graveyard any more. He sits by the fire and whittles all day. His knee hurts him very much."

Andy and Pete looked at each other and both knew instantly what their father would want them to do.

~HH~

And so, it was that on a beautiful summer's day, Karl Langensheidt received the surprise of his life. Two American officers, one Army, one Air Force, showed up on his doorstep, being led by his grandchildren. And in their hands, they carried a burlap sack containing a very tough patch of Dakota prairie grass rooted in some very deep German soil.

The End

A/N: * There is a military training school on the site of what was once Stalag 13c in Northern Germany. ** This is a nod to my story "Wrong Place, Wrong Time," which explains the flowers, though the story itself is AU. *** See my story "Earthquake," for more on this incident.


End file.
